Dark Messiah
by Brandon Payne
Summary: This takes place during the Trolloc Wars. It is speculation on how something might have come to be.


It is a clear night time with a full moon at zenith as a village is being attacked and burned by a horde of Trollocs as they slaughter its inhabitants. Yet three people manage to escape the carnage and into the surrounding forest: a woman with her two children, a sixteen-year-old boy and a twelve-year-old girl.

The woman pulls her children along by either of their hands. Her son is carrying a sword. Their dresses make running difficult, unlike the son who wears trousers.

"Hurry!" The mother exclaimed breathily. "If we can just get across the river, the Trollocs won't catch us . . . ! They're supposed to be afraid of deep water!"

They soon hear the Trollocs close behind as their growls, snarls, squeals, or roars increase in pitch by the second. The crash of brush can be heard against them. Terror floods the hapless Humans and they risk a glance back to see their numbers. There are so many of them. And they are fast, as fast as horses.

The boy stops and lets go of his mother's hand to brandish his sword aloft in both hands defiantly at the rapidly approaching Trolloc horde.

"Jeraal, no!" The mother exclaimed as she grabs hold of his shoulder, only to suddenly let go.

The Trollocs stop before the hapless Humans. They are inhumanly tall with muscles in proportion to their height and wear black spiked armor as they wield curved or spiked swords, axes, or maces. Their race was created by the Forsaken Aginor who blended Human and animal DNA consisting of either wolf, bear, boar, goat, or hawk. Their forms are unto men and are covered in either fur or feathers. Their faces are distorted by either muzzles or beaks beneath equally Human eyes, with some of them having horns sprouting out of their heads. Some have humanoid feet as their boots show and some more have bare feet that are hoofed like a goat's. In spite of their fearsomeness, Trollocs are generally stupid, lazy, and cowardly. Those traits, however, have not made them any less dangerous as the past couple of centuries of the Trolloc Wars have consistently proven their overwhelming fondness for killing, destroying, and Human flesh. No one, not even Darkfriends, can be truly safe around them. Not even those who can effectively intimidate Trollocs will ever trust them.

"Drop your sword, boy," a deep raspy voice casually commanded from behind the boy named Jeraal. A voice that did not sound human, and even sent a chill through him.

Jeraal slowly turns and is confronted with a sight that almost stops his heart. It is the sight of a Myrddraal wearing a black cloak over scaled black armor that covers all but its hands and head. Both his mother and sister are being embraced in either of its arms and is clutching hold their throats. Tears stream down their terror-stricken faces as they gasp and tremble repeatedly.

Terror seizes Jeraal as well and he cannot move. He had never seen a Myrddraal up close before, but he has heard of them and what they are capable of. They are the offspring of Trollocs, but a throwback to the Human side, with its Humanity extending only to its form and black hair. Its skin and lips are the color of a pale-skinned Human who has been bled dry. It has a smooth featureless cranium where eyes and its associated features such as sockets, brows, and a nose bridge are supposed to be located. Despite their lack of eyes, they can still see as well as any Human, if not better. They can travel from one place to another through mere shadows. They have acidic black blood that etches steel and killing them is like killing an eel, as decapitation only makes the rest of their body thrash around. Unlike their Trolloc parents, they are smarter and more disciplined, making them more trustworthy. They are the commanders of Trolloc legions either through bonding Trollocs to their will or just outright intimidating them with their power to invoke fear.

"I said drop your sword!" The Myrddraal commanded more sharply. "Now!" As it snarls and tights its grip upon the throats of Jeraal's mother and sister.

Jeraal shakily extends his arm and does as he was told. He hears movement in front of him and turns to see a hawk-like Trolloc swagger up to him. It lifts its arm as if to scratch its shoulder, only to lash out with a backhand to send him flying. His thoughts are jarred and everything takes on a dream-like quality, only to be knocked back into reality as he hits the fern-covered ground painfully. He feels hot pain in the side of his head.

He is next picked roughly up off the ground by a massive callused hand around his neck, causing him to clasp it on a reflex. The stench of that Trolloc is nauseating.

"Bring them alive," the Mydraal commanded.

Between the pain in his head and that almost strangling hold that Trolloc has around his neck, Jeraal can barely keep track of where they are going. After a time, he is roughly tossed to the ground and experiences more pain and the wind knocked out of him, causing him to gasp repeatedly. Once he recovers, he looks to see his family nearby on the ground. The Myrddraal stands before them.

"Normally, you would be eaten by now," it rasped in that harsh voice. "But . . . I'm in a bit of a . . . mood."

Jeraal's terror increases over its mentioning the word, mood, because he had also heard of what Myrddraal liked to do with women . . . and men.

"And you," it next rasped as it points at Jeraal, "are going to watch or you will suffer worse than them."

What follows is to be the most horrific experience of Jeraal's life, and he won't ever forget it for as long as he is alive. He is forced to watch as that Myrddraal rapes his mother and sister and see the looks of purest terror upon their faces. He is forced to listen to their screaming and wailing, along with the happy hoots, squeals, and howls of Trollocs. Once the Myrddraal finishes with them, they are left mute and broken. The Myrddraal next permits the Trollocs to feed on Jeraal's family, alive. The Trollocs holding him even let him go to feed, but the Myrddraal stares down at Jeraal, warning him to neither move nor look away. And again, Jeraal is forced to watch as the Trollocs leave little of his mother and sister behind.

And then . . .

"Now it's your turn," the Myrddraal next rasped as it points at Jeraal with one hand while claspsing its swollen maleness with the other. "Off with his trousers."

"No! No don't!" Jeraal screamed in terror as his heart skips a beat and tries to flee. The Trollocs are quick to pin him and effortlessly rip his trousers and smallclothes off to expose his bare buttocks to the cool air and night sky. Jeraal keeps screaming his refusal as he vainly struggles against the powerful grips upon his limbs. The Myrddraal moves with the grace of a cat or fox as it slowly struts toward him while clasping its white member. Every second it gets closer increases Jeraal's terror. And also, shame. He starts to feel as if his mind is trying to leave his head. The Myrddraal is now only seconds away from violating him.

It next stops and looks to one side with a snarl. A fireball strikes it's head, causing it to burst into flame, then shriek and thrash around. Since it did not bond the Trollocs, they do not die with it. The Trollocs bellow with outrage as they are quick to let go of their victim and grab their weapons. Next to follow are the shouts of men, along with the sounds of swords clashing. This time explosions follow as it is clear that the One Power is being used. Soldiers are here, along with Aes Sedai. Jeraal just lies there, feeling both relief and despair.

The battle continues to rage all around and Jeraal feels himself being lulled into a sleep. That is when he becomes aware of the silence and lifts his head to see that all the Trollocs are dead and there are armored men all around. The charred Myrddraal lies nearby, still violently twitching as if trying to deny that it is dead. The soldiers notice Jeraal and alert the others. They rush over to him, but Jeraal covers his head on a reflex and mutters with fear.

"Stop you fools," a woman suddenly commanded. "The last thing he wants is a bunch of men running up to him in his current state . . . ! Easy, boy," the voice had turned soft, "it's all over. Nobody here is going to hurt you. The Shadowspawn are all dead."

He next feels something cover him. Jeraal looks to see that it is a cloak. He slowly gets up while covering himself with it and looks at the woman next to him. She is an ordinary woman with grey eyes and brown hair in a braid over her right shoulder. Her clothing is a green dress with a matching shawl across her shoulders.

Jeraal notices her ring: a serpent in a figure eight eating its own tail.

"Th-Thank you, Aes Sedai," he sighed as he did a slight bow.

"I'm just glad we managed to get here in time," she answered. "We were out here because we heard that Trollcs had attacked a village. Then we heard screaming from a long way off and hurried here . . . I just wished we had arrived earlier." As she looks away to see the torn clothes of his mother and sister, along with what remains of them.

"Come," she next said. "We'll see if we can find a pair of smallclothes and trousers for you. What is your name, boy?"

"J-Jeraal."

"Well, Jeraal. My name is Josai."

Jeraal walks with Josai as he keeps her cloak wrapped firmly around his torso. Two Warders, as their iridescent cloaks show, walk up to them. Their movements graceful, like a hunting cat or fox, and their appearance like watchdogs as they gaze at Jeraal. He cannot help but feel uneasy as they seemingly glare at him.

"These are my two Warders, Azil and Darog," Josai said. "That means I'm of the Green Ajah."

Azil is a tall wiry man with blue eyes, slicked black hair with matching sideburns. Darog is shorter and more muscular with brown eyes and closely cropped blond hair. Both Warders look as if they are ready to kill someone, though Darog has more of a relaxed look.

They come upon a soldier, of whom Josai orders to get Jeraal a pair of trousers and smallclothes. That soldier runs off, but soon hurries back with the trousers and smallclothes.

"These should fit him," the soldier said.

"I'll hold my cloak around you properly, Jeraal," Josai said.

The cloak suddenly goes stiff and surrounds his lower self from the shoulders down, pulling itself out of Jeraal's hands. This is the One Power being used. The cloak feels like a stiff tent pulled taunt and the opening stays firmly shut. Jeraal is given his new clothes and puts them on. Afterwards, he nods and the cloak suddenly flies away from him back into Josai's hands.

"We will escort you to the nearest refugee camp," Josai said as she puts her cloak back on.

"Th-Thank you," Jeraal said appreciatively. "I'd really like that."

The soldiers arrive with a supply wagon and Jeraal rides in it. Josai rides alongside him on her horse with her two warders on their respective horses near her.

"I want to become a Warder," Jeraal suddenly said.

She studies Jeraal for a moment as if judging him. "Are you sure? And for what reason?"

"I want to fight the Dark One," he answered eagerly. "I want slaughter his minions, scourge them! Wipe out all that is of the Shadow!" His anger rising. The Shadow had caused all of this suffering. His suffering too.

"Admirable cause," Josai answered. "But . . . are you sure that you are not trying to seek revenge?"

"Revenge? Don't you mean, justice?" Jeraal sneered. "Look at all what the Dark One has caused! He and all who serve him must pay!"

"That will be the Dragon Reborn's duty," Josai answered flatly.

"It's been almost two hundred years since these . . . these Trolloc wars began!" Jeraal sputtered indignantly. "The Dragon's rebirth is long overdue! And besides . . . he could turn out to be just another False Dragon, like Raolin Darksbane was."

"The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills," Josai chided gently. "You're not the only one who has lost so much. Just remain focused on living and living into the future. If you keep your mind on what you've lost, it can break you."

"I'll find a way to get rid of the Shadow," Jeraal growled. "One way or another, we won't need this Dragon Reborn. If he's ever reborn."

"He will be reborn, Jeraal," Josai said with a soft though firm tone of certainty. "The Dragon will be reborn. It may not be in my lifetime let alone yours. Nor in the lifetime of any future Aes Sedai born this year. But he will be reborn. And when he is, our troubles with the Shadow will go away."

Jeraal frowns as his cheeks redden.

"I . . . I think you're right about me not being cut out to be Warder material," he finally said flatly.

"I never said you weren't," Josai said.

"No?" Jeraal said in a offhanded manner. "But I have changed my mind."

They travel on through the night. Jeraal falls asleep in the back of the wagon. He dreams of that attack once again, only this time the Myrddraal rapes him. He wakes up with a gasp of fright.

"Bad dream, Jeraal?" Josai asked gently.

"Yeah," he sighed.

By early morning as the day is only an hour old, they arrive at a secure looking encampment.

"This is where you should be able to stay," Josai said.

They get Jeraal settled away. In time, Josai and her Warders leave.

* * *

><p>More time passes and with it, more refugees arrive. Though some leave to go elsewhere, Jeraal stays put. As for life within the camp, Jeraal adjusts, albeit slowly. What makes it comforting is that absolutely everyone in here has suffered. The refugee camp begins turning into something more tangible as they start calling it, Wanderer's Hope, with walls being raised about the place.<p>

The reports that continue to come in are what the refugees along with their parents, grandparents, great grandparents, and beyond had all grown up with: Trollocs rampaging throughout the Westlands laying waste to communities from hamlets up to cities and making its people their food. The Trolloc Wars, however, did not happen everywhere simultaneously day and night. There were weeks, months even, when there was quiet in one place while Trollocs were doing what they do best elsewhere. Eventually though, the Trollocs pay a visit to whatever quiet place they had failed to pay a visit to beforehand.

Jeraal continues to have nightmares. Of that Myrddraal successfully raping him; his family screaming as they got eaten alive until all that is left were their faces which then got promptly eaten; of a Trolloc voiding its bowels before him and his mother and sister's faces appearing within its excrement screaming for help. And as always he awoke crying out and gasping in a cold sweat. He had trouble eating meat, especially beef or venison. Ironically, he found it easier to eat goat or pork since he could imagine it was a Trolloc. Nowadays, rats and mice are about the only creatures to be eaten since so much livestock had been slaughtered by Trollocs. That and it helps keeps the number of spies for Dark One low since rats and mice are believed to be such.

Jeraal, now twenty-six years old, is helping another Aes Sedai with her luggage as she will be staying a time in a small shack. Her name is Sarhee and she is of the Brown Ajah. She is a petite woman with fair skin, ice blue eyes, and pale blond hair parted in the middle that extends to her jaw but is closely cropped in the back. Her brown dress is close fitting with a line of small gemstones running the full length of where her bosom is. Her Warder, a red haired man named Dannel with pale freckled skin and green eyes, is with her as is obvious by his cloak.

Jeraal has a small chest in his hands when he fumbles it and it falls onto the grassy ground, spilling its content of books since it was not locked.

"Hey, hey, you be careful with that," Sarhee warned as she swiftly waggles a finger at him.

"Oh, I'm sorry Aes Sedai," Jeraal apologized as he is quick to get down and pick up her books to check over. "It looks like the books are okay."

He picks up another book that had fallen open to show a tower. Normally, he would have just closed it and put it with the rest. This book, however, seems to tickle his curiosity somehow. He peruses the pages to find more drawings. These with strange looking people.

"Hey, you can read later," Sarhee snapped.

Jeraal closes the book and looks at the title.

"The Tower of," he read, only to trail off upon being unable to pronounce the rest.

"Ghenjei," Sarhee pronounced as she is also picking up some of her stuff. "The Tower of Ghenjei. Now, are you gonna help me or not?"

"Ah, yes, yes, right away," Jeraal said as he quickly puts the book back inside that small chest.

After helping move her stuff into a small shack, Jeraal cannot help but wonder about that book.

"What is this Tower of Ghenjei?"

"It is a place that is both of this world and Tel'aran'rhiod," Sarhee answered.

"Tel'aran'rhiod?" Jeraal asked carefully.

"The Dream World. It is within that tower that two races of beings can be found: the Aelfinn and the Eelfinn. The Aelfinn will answer any three questions you ask them. The Eelfinn will give you any three things you want, though for a price."

Jeraal feels a fire alight in him. A sense of hope surges. Now he can find out how to get rid of the Shadow and even gain a power as to how to do it.

"If this tower exists," he next asked as casually and as skeptically as he could, "then where would that be?"

"It's believed to be somewhere along the Arinelle River," she answered.

Jeraal makes a wry face as if to shrug it off as gleeman's tales. "May I read it anyway?"

"I'm sorry but I do not let any of my books out of my sight," Sarhee answered in a tone that manages to be both apologetic and stern. "Given the way things are now, they are getting increasingly hard to come by, and reproduce."

"I understand," Jeraal said empathetically, while managing to hide his disappointment and turns to leave. "Oh," as he turns to face her once again as if having forgotten something important. "How long are you staying for? The reason I ask is because since so many people are arriving or just passing through, it's hard to know who is staying where and if they're still there. Several people before you have stayed in here in succession."

"Oh, I see, I shall only be here for two months," Sarhee answered in understanding.

"Excellent," Jeraal gave a slight bow, then turns to leave.

As he is walking away, his mind races over this. That question he posed was true insofar as there are so many refugees coming and going. Vacancies are declining since the elders of this place have been discouraging the erection of more buildings as of late, due to scarce resources for provisions, defense, and guard duty.

Jeraal is also planning on how to get ahold of that book. He has to plan this carefully and since her Warder is with her, he is going to always be hovering around her. If she is gone, he will be about the place to insure that nobody else enters. Given that she is Aes Sedai, she could use the One Power to put one of those wards in place to prevent theft.

Days go by and whenever he can, Jeraal pays attention to Sarhee's comings and goings. He discovers that Dannel always accompanies her. Maybe she does ward her stuff. Even if she doesn't, getting inside is going to be a problem because on any given day, a dozen people may walk by her place. That still does not stop him from planning on how to get his hands on that book if the opportunity should ever arise.

That opportunity finally does arrive one night, when Trollocs attack.

There is a general uproar throughout Wanderer's Hope as people run screaming and shouting, many of whom run toward the source. Jeraal, now chewing some spruce gum, hurries to Sarhee's shack with sack in hand and knocks on her door, calling out to her under the pretense of alerting her. Nobody answers. He looks around to see that everyone is too busy to confront the Trollocs or run away from them and he quickly ducks inside. He removes a lantern from his sack and lights it with a piece of flint. He sees her chest on the floor and hurries over to it where he sets his lantern down near it. He opens the chest, thankful that there is no ward, and starts looking for that book, careful to not mix up the selection.

He soon finds it.

He next reaches into his sack and pulls out a knife, then starts to carefully cut the cover off. Since it is only attached to either end of the book and not to its spine proper, it is easy. He holds that book aloft for a second and puts it down. He reaches into his sack and pulls out another book of matching size and thickness, this one with its cover missing as he had cut that one off as part of his plan. He takes a piece of the spruce gum out of his mouth and sticks it onto its spine, then another piece, and another still. Soon, there are several pieces of spruce gum evenly spaced over the spine. He picks up the Tower of Ghenjei cover and firmly presses the spine of the book against the interior spine of the book cover. Once he has pressed for as long as he dares to, he puts the book back into the truck and the other books carefully on top of it. He picks up the now coverless Tower of Ghenjei book. His heart skips a beat, he can't believe what he is doing. He takes a deep breath and stows that into his sack. He hopes that Sarhee won't be reading that book for a very long time coming.

Jeraal blows out his lamp and places it back into his sack, then gets up to leave. He peeks outside to see nobody around as they are too busy dealing with the Shadowspawn or hiding from them. He can hear explosions, meaning that Sarhee is busy with them. He leaves closing the door behind him and hurries back to his own shack. Once back there, he removes the stolen book and wraps it in an oiled canvas cloth and next stuffs it into his backpack of which he puts on.

He peeks out the door to see that there is nobody around as he lives in a less trafficked area of this place. He hurries in the opposite direction of the fighting and manages to reach the wall. It is not a proper wall as it is made up of only logs and is not much higher than a full grown Trolloc. Taking one more look around to see that nobody is watching, Jeraal tosses his backpack over the top and jumps up to clasp the top. He scrambles over it and lands upon the other side. He collects his backpack and runs off into the night.

The forest is some distance away as the entire area around had been cleared to give an unobstructed view and to prevent Shadowspawn from sneaking through the forest. Behind him, more explosions occur and by the time he makes it to the forest's edge, he looks back to see fireballs flying around. More explosions follow to light up the night and he can see the hordes of Trollocs out there. From the looks of it, they are about to circle around and he needs to be away from there before they get here. If he is lucky, Sarhee and Dannel will be killed by them and no one will know the better.

Jeraal runs into the darkened forest. A dangerous thing to do since he cannot adequately see where he is going. If he is not careful, he may fall and break his leg or even run into more Trollocs that may be sneaking up. Nevertheless, he continues his journey, albeit more slowly. He needs to put as much distance between himself and Wanderer's Hope as he can before that battle is over. If they had won that is. Perhaps the Pattern might have things go his way.

The bigger problem is knowing where he is going.

Onward he continues to trample through the tangle of trees. The branches and brush claw at him, forcing him to have to shove branches aside in the pitch-dark. At times he looks up to see the clear night sky with the full moon at zenith. It is then that he realizes that it was like that ten years ago when Trollocs attacked and he lost his family to them. The periodic explosions become increasingly faint.

The night seems eternal as he continues walking. Jeraal comes upon a clearing, giving him some reprieve as he now has a more unobstructed view of the wilderness. The coolness of the night is also more pronounced now that he is out in the open. The air is still. He strains his ears to listen for sounds of that battle since sound travels further during the night, especially when there is no wind to create a rustling of the leaves or a soft roar in his ears.

Another distant explosion occurs. Very distant so as to be mistaken for the rumble of thunder. There is a faint light over the trees, only that it is gone as soon as it was seen. Jeraal looks up to find the North Star.

Onward he walks until he comes upon another border to more forest. He stops for a moment and takes a deep breath before plunging into more darkness. It seems that eternity is passing him by as he continues walking through more forest. He starts wondering, if for nothing more than trying to banish the tediousness of trampling through dark forest, if he will come upon the Tower of Ghenjei.

At one point, he stops upon noticing that it is a bit brighter now. He looks to see the faint reddish glow of dawn over the horizon. Good, that means it will be sunrise soon and he will be able to read that book under the sunlight. Jeraal starts wondering if Wanderer's Hope has survived, along with its people. Sarhee and Dannel even. He has to assume that they have and are back at that shack. Are they resting? Is she going to start perusing her chest of books?

That part is cause for alarm. Will she discover that the Tower of Ghenjei is not what it is? Will she and Dannel go off in pursuit of him? She might not check her books right away, especially not the stolen one. No doubt the whole place must have discovered that he himself is missing because they will find out that his backpack is missing. Will they send a search party out for him, or will they believe that he has become Trolloc food?

Assumptions, so many assumptions, and no way to verify them. Jeraal focuses on trekking along. When the sun is high enough, he will take out that book and read it. It's not a thick book, so there is not a lot in it.

The sun eventually rises, brightening the day. He feels hungry, but he will not stop just yet until he manages to get in a clearer area. He hears a raven croak and this makes him uneasy. Like mice, rats, and even crows, are supposed to be the Dark One's spies and this makes him wonder if they are spying on him. Worse, if there are a flock of them, they might attack and peck him to death. Creatures of the Dark One love killing.

There are no more caws and he relaxes somewhat. The day is an hour old by the time he reaches another clearing and is able to get a better view of his surroundings. There are mountains all around covered with forest. He wonders just where he is, but he takes this opportunity to check out that book and slips off his backpack. He takes out the book and unwraps it. There are one hundred pages with large type print and several pages of sketches that show the layout of the tower, along with the two species of beings, so it will not take long to read.

Jeraal reads that the Tower of Ghenjei is located along the Arinelle River. It is a plain metal tower that is two hundred feet tall without windows and doors. In order to make a door, one must make the outline of a triangle upon it using a bronze knife, then make a wavy line through it.

Upon entering one will find their self in another world alien to their own. The Aelfinn and the Eelfinn are the masters of that world and can change the interior. They do not like iron, fire, nor music as iron binds them, fire blinds them, and music dazzles them. He finds a chant that goes; courage to strengthen, fire to blind, music to dazzle, iron to bind. The game snakes and foxes is based upon the pact with these two alien races. He remembers playing that game. It seems that the only way to win is to cheat.

They have a Human appearance, though the Aelfinn appear serpentine while the Eelfinn appear fox-like. The Aelfinn know everything and will answer any three questions given to them. They will always give true answers, but questions touching upon the Shadow are dangerous. The Eelfinn will grant any three requests desired from them, but for a bargain. If one does not set the bargain then they will set it instead. The two races are not evil the way the Shadow is evil, but they may as well be because their way of thinking is so different from how a Human thinks. It further states that they cannot be trusted and it is difficult to leave the Tower of Ghenjei in the real world, but impossible in Tel'aran'rhiod.

Jeraal puts the book away and takes out a pear. As he eats, he uses the position of the sun to find South and starts walking. He really has no idea where to go and thinks that he may end up getting hopelessly lost.

But he will not give up as he now knows that he has the means to challenge the Dark One. No need for the Dragon to be reborn.

* * *

><p>Over the next ten years, Jeraal scoured for his objective. He did not get lost as he had feared as he managed to find communities along the way that had yet to be destroyed by Trollocs. At times when his supplies ran low, he went into them to earn enough coin to get supplies. He also learned to forage as well. It still did not prevent him from going hungry or getting wet and cold at times. He also kept his ears keen for any information that he could chase, consulting whomever he believed to know about the Tower of Ghenjei; especially gleemen, since they were usually a treasure trove of information. Always, they told him what he already knew from the book, but that never stopped him from asking as he believed that they just might know something that was not covered in the book. He avoided any Aes Sedai that happened to be around because he believed that they might have heard about his theft.<p>

He finally managed to find the Arinelle River and search its banks in earnest. It was far from an easy search as the river is a large and long one made up of countless tributaries that passed through swamps and bogs in various places.

It is now morning, and a wet foggy one with much drizzle falling. Once again Jeraal is trampling through more forest along the Arinelle. His clothes are not the same clothes he had worn ten years ago, yet these are also made ragged by wear and tear. His boots are cracked and the soles are pitted with holes. His feet are wet, and callused from the rocks and pebbles that frequently got into them.

This time he is following a lead that was given to him. It was actually from a dream that he had last night. It was very vivid in which he was walking alongside the river until he came upon a willow tree with a snake lounging in its lower branches and a fox staring up at it. The fox noticed him and ran into the forest. Jeraal had next felt an overwhelming urge to chase after it and did so, until he came upon the Tower of Ghenjei. He awoke upon remembering that he would not be able to leave it in Tel'aran'rhiod.

He comes upon a willow tree and immediately sees a tree snake lounging in its lower branches. He gasps upon seeing a fox staring up at it. The fox notices him and runs into the forest, prompting Jeraal to give chase. He always manages to catch sight of the fox's tail before it disappears into more brush. Jeraal's eyes gleam with anticipation as his palms and groin have a ticklish tingling feeling coursing through them.

Jeraal emerges into a more open area and sees a plain metal tower some two hundred feet high that is devoid of windows and a door.

"Is this it?!" He gasped aloud with wonderment as he hurries up to it, no longer caring about the fox. "Is this really it?! The Light send that it is so! Only one way to find out!" As he slips his backpack off, then fumbles his hand around inside it.

Jeraal finally pulls out a sheathed dagger and unsheathes it to reveal that it is made of bronze, something he had managed to acquire several years ago. He puts his backpack back on and rises as he clasps the dagger more firmly. Taking a deep breath and exhaling loudly, Jeraal lifts the bronze dagger and presses the tip against the smooth metal featureless wall of the tower. Sounds of metal scraping on metal fill the air as Jeraal traces the shape of a large triangle and next traces a wavy line through it.

An opening in the exact size and shape of the triangle appears. Jeraal drops the dagger and laughs with triumph as joy overwhelms him.

"Oh Light, yes! Yes, this really is the Tower of Ghenjei!" He falls to his knees and clasps his hands, then tilts his head back with closed eyes in reverance. "Oh Light! Praise be to the Light! Praise the Light! The Light has finally led me here after all these years!"

Jeraal laughs with delight and triumph a while longer, eventually calming and sighing. He continues to stand there smiling, though this time knowing what he must do next. Over the past ten years, he had thought about what questions to ask the Aelfinn if he ever meets them. He hopes to meet with them first because one of his questions is connected to the Eelfinn, of whom he had long since decided upon what he wants from them.

He takes a few deep breaths and exhales, psyching himself up. He picks up the bronze dagger once again and takes another deep breath, then plunges inside.

Jeraal finds himself in a hallway that looks to be a deadend. The walls, floors, and ceilings look to be made of a strange material and in patterns of curves and spirals. He walks down the hallway until he comes to an intersection. He wonders which way to go. That is when he gets a fanciful idea of putting the bronze dagger on the floor and spinning it around. It points down the way he came. He spins it again, and again it points down the way he came. A third time he spins it and the results are the same. He spins it several more times, each time from a different point. And several more times it points down the way he came.

Jeraal looks back as he gives that direction a wry expression. He is confused about that, knowing that it was the direction from which he came. After years of studying that book, he learns that this place has its own rules.

Yet on a hunch, he decides to go down one of the hallways and ends up coming to an intersection. This one with his knife still pointing down that hallway. He goes down the other hallway and comes upon his knife once again. He goes down what should logically be the last direction and comes upon his knife once again.

"I guess that's the only way then," he said as he picks up his knife and stows it back into his backpack and starts walking down the way it pointed.

Jeraal comes upon a large room where colorful mist rises from the corners. He notices a window and looks outside. He is startled by the sight of a world with a red sky, yellow soil, and gnarled trees bearing strange yellow fruit.

Jeraal turns away from the window. "Hello?" His tone tentatively while looking around. "Aelfinn . . . ? I have three questions for you."

"Questions?"

Jeraal is startled by a voice nearby and is greeted a man. Or what seems to be a man because he looks strange. He is wearing what looks like bandages around his body, and his face seems snake-like.

"Are you an Aelfinn?" Jeraal asked.

"Yes."

"I have three questions for you!" Jeraal gasped joyously.

"Are you carrying any iron?" The Aelfinn asked. "Any musical instruments or fire?"

"No, none! Now about those questions!"

"Come with me and they shall be answered," the Aelfinn said as it turns away.

Jeraal follows the Aelfinn up to large double doors which then open without apparent aid. He follows the Aelfinn into a large room that is made up of nothing but curves and spirals. More Aelfinn are present, both male and female alike, and all are uniformly dressed in bandage-like clothes.

The Aelfinn turns to him and holds it hand up. "Stand there."

It next takes its place amongst the rest of its kind.

"Now then," that first Aelfinn he met continued. "You said you have three questions. But its two now, since you asked me what I was."

Jeraal shrugs it off because it was really only two questions he had wanted to ask them. He takes a deep breath as he mentally readies himself to carefully ask them.

"How do I destroy the Dark One?"

Jeraal is struck with a feeling as if his mind is being ripped out of his head and run through a meat grinder. The pain is such that he falls onto the floor clasping his head with a look of agony. He can feel his preception on reality stretching, cracking. The sensation finally stops and the pain goes away. Jeraal slowly rises unsteadily while gasping. It is then that he notices his perception on reality has somehow gotten thinner.

"Shai'tan shall only be cast out by the Dragon Reborn," a male Aelfinn answered.

Jeraal gasps as he shudders over feeling loss. The Aelfinn will always answer any three questions truthfully. Frustration storms within him and he fights for control. Wait! The Eelfinn will grant him any three things he wants. He smiles as he calms over this fact. All he has to do is reach them so that he can set about destroying the Dark One.

Wait! That Aelfinn just named the Dark One! Surely, something bad is going to happen to him? Or maybe nothing at all, given that this is not the Human world.

Jeraal shakes his head and sighs as he focuses on his final question. "How do I find the Eelfinn within this place?"

"Return to where you first came in, then return back here," another Aelfinn answered, a female this time.

"But as you return," another chimed in, a male, "walk backwards."

Jeraal thinks on this for a moment, finding it odd.

"Thank you," he instead answered with a nod and leaves.

Jeraal returns to the intersection and remembers how this works then turns around and goes "back" the way he came. He finds himself back at the entrance he had made and starts walking backward. Upon arriving back at that intersection, he remembers something crucial and turns around to walk backward the way he came.

He finds himself back in that area with the large double doors, only this time the decore is different as it is all made up of sharp straight lines and angles. Jeraal feels satisfaction over having done this right. This is it, he will get what he wants to destroy the Dark One. For most of his life, he had wanted that. All the pain, all the suffering the Shadow had caused. The victims. His family. His nightmares.

_I will get justice!_ He thought darkly. _I will get revenge! I will destroy the Shadow! Scourge it! Wipe Shai'tan out!_

Jeraal thinks about that for a moment with unease. He named the Dark One in his mind. But only in his mind, it's only speaking that name which is harmful. Or is it? Given that this is not the Human world, so the Dark One's presence is not here.

"Shai'tan," Jeraal uttered.

Nothing happens. There was supposed to be an overwhelming sense of being glared at whenever the Dark One was named. So it was only back in his world that naming the Dark One was dangerous.

Jeraal recovers his objective and walks slowly up to those large double doors, which automatically opens for him to walk in. The interior is also of sharp straight lines and angles. All around are people with a fox-like appearance. Jeraal understands that they must be the Eelfinn and walks foreward. They stare at him, but do not speak. He notices that their clothing seems to be made of unusual leather. He gasps as his heart skips a beat upon discovering that the leather is genuine Human skin!

He stops at the end of the path and looks around. They all continue to stare at him, silently. Their inhuman expressions, predatory.

Jeraal takes a deep breath and opens his mouth. "I want the power to destroy Shai'tan!"

"Done!" The Eelfinn intone as one.

In that instance, Jeraal feels that same pain and sensation he had felt when he asked that question about the Shadow to the Aelfinn. Upon recovering, he feels as if his perception of reality has gotten thinner still.

Once again, he takes a deep breath and opens his mouth. "I want the power of persuasion!"

"Done!" The Eelfinn again intone as one.

"And finally," Jeraal proclaimed, "I want to be sent back to my world to a place where its people are desperate for any help against Shai'tan!"

"Done!" The Eelfinn intone as one yet once again as a flash fills Jeraal's eyes.

Jeraal is next aware of lying on grassy rocky ground. He gets up to look around and sees that he is within a forest. It is a mostly clear and dry day and the sun is high. Through the trees he can see that there is a wall in the distance. He hurries out through the forest to find himself upon a grassy plain that has been cleared of trees. He sees a city stretching alongside a river. Although he has never been to that city, he has heard of it. Its distinctive architecture of cylindrical buildings with pointed domed rooves make it the only city to have such architecture throughout the Ten Nations.

He briskly begins walking toward the city with feelings of pride over all that he had accomplished, and now will for those people. He finally arrives before its massive gates and sees a pair of guards up above, who in turn notice him.

"Who goes there?!"

"My name is Jeraal Mordeth and I have come to help Aridhol!"


End file.
